


A Portrait of the Space Between Oasis and Evergreen

by PitchBlackMagpie (xx_dandy)



Series: founders era [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushing Homophobia, Drama & Romance, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character Death(s), Other, POV Lesbian Character, Politics, Rituals, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Uchiha Izuna Lives, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village, Warring States Period (Naruto), for byelawliet's eyes only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xx_dandy/pseuds/PitchBlackMagpie
Summary: It's raining when Mito meets Senju Toka, covered in mud with red strands of hair unraveled from her bun and plastered to her forehead, the scent of death deep in her lungs as they crash together like projectiles on different plots on the course of fate that just so happened to collide. Toka is strong, beautiful, sharp, covered in thorns that Mito can sink through without being cut just the same way Toka can easily slither past all her carefully-constructed walls.Toka wants to be sure; Mito needs to be sure. And she needs Toka, even if it means splitting her country down the middle and everything comes crashing down.But she is made of steel, and her head was made for a crown."I just wish she felt the same way," Mito says, morosely, staring despondently out the window as rain slides down the glass."...Yes." Madara sits there, a ring made of wood and crystal worth more than a mountain full of gold mines on his finger, looking pointedly pained. "That's...rough."
Relationships: Senju Touka/Uzumaki Mito
Series: founders era [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/967437
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	1. the grand world beyond (is not so grand)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theadventuresof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadventuresof/gifts).



The worst thing about Kanto was its immense amount of dirt. It was a crime against nature how dirty it all was- no one could take two steps without their feet coming into contact with dirt. It billowed into dust when it wasn’t packed down enough and got into everything; clothes, packs, pouches. There was even dust on the inside of the cap to one of her ink bottles.

But what was worse than the dirt was what it turned into given any instance of water: mud. There was nothing Mito could think of that was grimier or more inconvenient and distasteful than mud. At least dirt could be brushed off- mud stained everything in sight and required a thorough scrubbing to get off. She could feel damp, sticky material squelching between her toes, probably ruining her sandals, and her trouser legs had completely changed color- from sea green to a muddy brown.

Mud was the _worst_. Whatever pungent smell that inconvenienced the populace by descending onto the air clung to it, folding itself into the dirt, made entirely worse by the moisture and smelling even more sour.

Stacks of smoke coiled towards the clouds in the distance in most directions, save for the one she was traveling in. They were indicative of one odor that was especially repulsive, the scent of death and the start of rot as bodies laid in the mud for hours or days on end.

She passed a tree, streaked with mud along one side of it, standing in the midst of others scarred with burns and slashes as if it had seen the last desperate effort of some person trying to flee a death in the dirt.

The world was a cruel place. It didn’t matter that Mito was young, she had already learned this truth through hard, hard ways.

People ate at each other. They always hungered for something, whether it was power, or superiority, or love, or pain; they tore each other apart to search for their emotions, and the result was always the same.

The trees broke, stopping abruptly when the ground became too weak to hold up their roots. It shifted into sand, ugly grey sand that was mottled and darkened by the mining in the area and the heavy amounts of smoke leaking into the air. Mito walked onto the berm and out towards the sea, stopping when she had reached a spot just a few feet away from where saltwater was just starting to lap at the shore.

She knelt down and picked up the tiniest rock that no one would have noticed, turning it over and rubbing away the symbol drawn onto the back. The air around her shimmered and distorted. It broke away and revealed a boat hanging back from the shore, anchored, and her brother standing there in front of her, his arms folded and one eyebrow raised.

“Well? Did you find anything?”

“Our outpost is completely destroyed,” Mito told him, a note of disappointment in her voice, but for the most part, stoic. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but this instance was particularly unfortunate. “The town we were trading with has been demolished. I found traces of battle and many bodies, but nothing of worth.”

Taro shook his head, displeased. “Then coming here was worthless.”

It wouldn’t have been worthless if Mito could have found any survivors.

Wordlessly, she walked out to the boat with him and climbed aboard. It was small, but large enough to comfortably fit four or five people with space to work.

A pair of eyes identical to her own landed on her as soon as she stepped aboard. Her sister looked up at her with a hopeful expression, one that still held some naivety, and Mito hated to crush it. “There was no one left, sister. Prepare to leave.”

Chiharu’s expression fell. “Not even one person? I can’t imagine…”

“Don’t try,” Taro told her, sounding irritated as he gathered the rope holding their anchor. “This country is riddled with war. It isn’t like home. Remember that.”

Chiharu looked away and down at the floor of the boat. She sat cross-legged with her back to one of the sides, long red hair tied back and a book in her lap that she’d shielded from view when she noticed them coming.

Mito walked over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving her sister a small smile of encouragement when she glanced up at her. Chiharu returned it, though it was dim. She got up, putting the book into the pouch on her hip, and set about helping them set sail.

The Land of Fire was their closest neighbor. Mito supposed the name was fitting, since it seemed to always _be_ on fire. From what she’d heard, the spat between shinobi clans that had decimated Whirlpool’s contact had been from two minor clans, but much of the fighting was due to the Senju and Uchiha as well. Mito had never met anyone from either clan- only heard stories from the rare shinobi who made treks farther into the continent, and from her father.

When they caught wind, it didn’t take long to give their boat a boost of speed with their chakra and sail back towards the Land of Whirlpools in naught but an hour. For a civilian boat, it might have taken three or four. They had fuinjutsu that ran propellers on the underside, as well- an invention of Mito’s. Taro had been jealous when it had been implemented to their entire fleet.

The mountains of the island came into view in what felt more like minutes than anything else. Island it may have been, the Land of Whirlpools was a country in and of itself, and it was quite large. Even still, they were dwarfed by every other island in that part of the sea, and it was perhaps their proximity to the Land of Fire that had saved them from invasion once or twice. Those in the continent were much too preoccupied with fighting each other to worry about foreigners.

They glided into a path that led inland, past rolling hills and the towns in between. There was water in the center of the island, a giant lake of sorts, with smaller pieces of land within that the actual village was built upon. Some featured large bridges made of metal and wood connecting them, while smaller ones were connected by nothing but planks strewn together.

There were many docks, but the one Taro pulled into was attached to the largest center island, where the heart of village leadership laid. It was made like a miniature palace, a sweeping house up on a hill with guards posted outside the door.

When she climbed off their boat onto shore, Mito noticed Chiharu had filched something and had quickly stowed it away in the inside pocket of her protective vest. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Taro was already stiff enough about off-island visits; Mito would just ask later, when they were done with their report.

Chiharu lagged behind them as they ascended the steps, carved from white stone. Mito walked in stride with Taro, which she knew annoyed him, which was exactly why she did it.

The guards nodded at them and opened the doors as they approached. Lit torches lined the walkway inside, even with the light shining in from the windows, and her father sat on a cushion at the end of the line, with an advisor saying something in low tones with a scroll in his hand. When he noticed them come in, he straightened with a respectful nod to them, a bow to her father, and disappeared into the doorway on the right.

“Mito, Taro,” her father greeted, then cocked an eyebrow and titled his head to see Chiharu behind them. “Chiharu. How did the mission go?”

“Quite abysmally,” Mito replied, before her brother could answer. “The town of Esero was destroyed before we even arrived. I found nothing but ash and dust there.”

Ashina grimaced. “I feared as much,” he said, placing the pipe in his hand into his mouth and breathing in slowly. He let out a small ring of smoke that dissipated before it went anywhere. “The land is in so much turmoil; I had hoped it had not yet reached the coast, but it seems no place is safe. Was there any evidence of the clans that were involved?”

“I found corpses denoting the Chinoike and Akimichi, and some unmarked bodies. Anyone alive had already cleared out.”

Ashina let out a sigh. “Very well. Thank you, you three,” he said, giving them a nod, and Mito folded her hands together behind her back as she pretended not to be eyeing the way Taro’s hands clenched. “You can go clean yourselves up now.”

They nodded at him in unison and turned to leave through the other entrance on the left. Beyond there was a hallway with windows peeking out into the gardens that led into the section of the manor that was their home, and not meant for business.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Taro turned to her with a frown. “You could have let me speak, Mito.”

“You could have added in anything you liked.”

“You know what I mean. I was the leader on this mission, so I should have given the report-”

“If you’d been meaning to, you would have asked me for all the details as we returned, and yet you did not, so how could you have?” Mito asked innocently, ignoring the way his face twitched. Behind her, Chiharu let out a quiet giggle, which seemed to irritate their brother even more. He shot her an irritated look, and she quickly shut up. “I was the scout, and I saw everything with my own eyes. If you’d like to scout next time, just let me know.”

Her brother let a deep frown flit onto his face and folded his arms. “You touted your skill as the stealthiest among us and jumped on the job for yourself,” he noted, a jab Mito couldn’t exactly deny. “It’s dangerous outside Whirlpool. I know I don’t need to tell you that. Stop jumping into things yourself- I’m the _captain_ , and whatever happens to you is on my shoulders.”

“I appreciate your worry, Taro, but I do not need it,” Mito said, not trying to be altogether as uncaring as she had before. She did appreciate his concern, even if he had a clumsy way of showing it, but she didn’t like to be underestimated, either. “Next time, if you wish to give the report, gather the information first. Now, can I go take a bath, since I was the one crawling in mud?”

Taro grimaced at her. He gave her a jerky nod, and she turned to keep going down the hallway. It split into two paths: the side of the home in which she and her sisters lived, and the side her brothers did. She ducked under the curtain for her hallway and waited until she and Chiharu had reached their common room before turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

“All right, what did you get?”

Chiharu stopped cold and looked at her with the expression of a startled rabbit. “Huh?”

“You know what I mean. I know you sneaked something back,” Mito teased, kicking off her sandals onto the mat. “I won’t tell. What is it?”

“Oh.” Face heating, Chiharu took a glance around as if there was some sort of spy that may see. Hesitantly, she reached into her sleeve and withdrew a tiny purple flower. “I saw it on the beach. It was the only pretty thing there…I didn’t want to leave it behind, all alone.”

“It is pretty,” Mito agreed, gently giving one of the petals a stroke with her index finger. “Put it in my hot bed, perhaps it will grow again.”

Chiharu lit up. “Really? Thank you, Mito, I will!” She turned and darted off in the direction of Mito’s room, where an ornate box with stained glass shutters for a lid lived with a row of candles on one side. Each candle sat on top of a seal that funneled heat and chakra into the box and encouraged any plants Mito was interested in to grow, even if they’d been de-rooted.

Mito herself headed for their bath. The room was made with sterile white tile lining the walls and floor and windows in the ceiling to let out any steam. She stripped down in front of the mirror, grimacing at her filthy fingernails, and dropped her gear into a basket she knew a maid would come by to deal with later.

With a turn of the faucet, and aptly used fire jutsu, she had a hot bath going at just the right temperature. Letting out a sigh as she sunk into the tub, she reached up and let her hair out of its bun.

The heat worked out the knots and aches in her muscles and soothed the images of the day from her mind. There was a little wooden mechanism on the wall that activated with heat and automatically dropped some lavender into the water, and as the steam rose the scent of it replaced the smell of decay that was still stuck in her nostrils.

Mito hated it. She hated going, she hating seeing it, she hated it most when she heard the screams of those she couldn’t help, but the world- it was a cruel place.

A knock on the door put her on alert. “Come in,” she said, recognizing the chakra hanging around outside.

A face mostly obscured by bright red hair peered inside. One purple eye was visible; not much else. “E-elder sister?”

“Hello, Hanako,” Mito said with a smile, relaxing again. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine…I thought I would come see how you are after your mission…did it go well?”

“It went…not as well as hoped, but it’s all right. Come now, don’t be a stranger, come past the doorway.”

Mito’s tone was lighthearted and teasing, but her sister still flushed as she stepped inside. She was dressed in her yukata for bed; it was already late, even if the sun was only starting to go down. “Would you like me to help with your hair?”

“I would appreciate it dearly.”

The younger girl hurried to roll up her sleeves and grab some of the liquid soap sitting on one of the shelves. She settled on the side of the bath behind Mito’s head, and she closed her eyes with a hum as the girl massaged the soap into her scalp and started to work out towards the ends.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, her sister spoke again. “I heard that the clans in the Land of Fire are fighting even more viciously now,” she said, quietly. Her tone wasn’t anxious, but rather held a downcast longing. “I heard Father talking about the Senju.”

Mito let out a slow sigh. “What did he say?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping…I just passed them in the hall. He just said that we wouldn’t be helping them, if their clan head asked for it…have you heard about their new clan head? The one who can grow flowers from the earth?”

Mito couldn’t help but smile. Of course that was the first thing Hanako thought of. “Senju Hashirama,” she said, and it felt like she was saying an omen. “They say his strength is legendary.”

“I suppose so…” Hanako went back to stroking her hair, taking a comb from a lower-hanging shelf and starting to rake through it. She was quiet for another minute. “The Senju and Uzumaki are cousins, are they not?”

“Yes, distant, but cousins. We both have quite strong life forces- although, the Uzumaki to a deeper extent.”

“I should think they may ask us to help them,” Hanako went on, growing even quieter. “Do you think that’s something we should do?”

“I don’t know, little one.” Mito lifted a hand out of the water and reached up to stroke her sister’s hand, making her pause. “Our clans have not held the same grounds for millennia. There are many things to consider. Any would call us extremely lucky, right now, to be able to live here relatively unbothered. It would affect everyone who lived here if we did get involved in those troubles.”

Hanako sighed. “I know.”

“But you still think we should help?”

“I…I don’t know. I feel as though we should, but only if it’s for the right reason…I’ve never met Senju Hashirama. What if he’s not a good person?”

Mito’s smile nearly became too wide for her face. Hanako was such a quiet person, but so philosophical, if people would stop to listen to her. “And how are we defining a good person?”

“Well, I would say someone who has others’ wellbeing at heart above his own.”

“In that case, I think you’re a good person, Hanako. Your desire is a good one.”

Hanako was fidgeting with the comb now. “I think you’re a good person too, sister,” she murmured. “I wish more people thought of whether everyone else was a good person or not.”

“Even if they don’t, just promise me that you will continue to do so. Don’t change for the world, my dear, not ever.”

Hanako set the comb down on the bathtub and folded her hands together, staring at the floor with a pensive expression. She didn’t say anything else, and didn’t get the chance to, as the door to the bathroom swung open with a bang.

“Sissy!” Emiko sang, skipping inside with a lavender-colored robe in her hands. “I brought your robe!”

Mito looked up and smiled at her. “Thank you, Emiko.”

“How did your mission go? How does the Land of Fire look? Did you meet any shinobi from other clans? What about the flowers there, were there any growing? Did you bring anything interesting back? What about Taro? Is there a reason he looked sour when he was going to his room? And-”

Mito laughed, lifting herself out of the bathwater and stepping onto the mat after she’d dried off. She took the towel Hanako silently offered her and dried off, then took the robe in her other sister’s hands. “Easy, I can’t think as fast as you speak. You’re so impulsive.”

“Just answer my questions!” Emiko insisted with a squirrelly jig in place, looking antsy. “I want to hear all about it!”

“It wasn’t as exciting as you think, Emiko,” Chiharu sighed from just outside the doorway. “It was rather boring, if I’m being honest.”

“Boring? Oh no!”

Mito just smiled as they rambled on. She let them distract each other as she tied her robe off, slipped on her bed sandals, retired to her room to get dressed and ended up back in the living room to lounge on the sofa, and they didn’t even notice she had left the conversation.


	2. be weary friend and foe

Mito had three sisters. Sometimes, she wished she wasn’t the oldest. It might’ve made things easier, but then again, it was in Mito’s nature to take care of them. She didn’t know if that was a result of her being born first, or if it was something hers alone.

She had three brothers, as well, what one might have called a perfect balance if she wasn’t considered in the equation. She had what their traditions might have called bad luck. She was the firstborn, despite being a woman, and their youngest was a boy- her brother Hotaka. Imbalanced.

But Mito did not put any weight in superstition. She loved her siblings, but she did have a tendency to dote on her sisters. It couldn’t be helped- they’d been raised in such a separate way, together all the time.

Chiharu was the second oldest girl. She was excitable about the things she liked yet timid, and she loved reading silly little novels from the civilian merchants that Taro called frivolous. More than once he’d knocked one out of her hands, and it always made her pout and start to tear up. He did usually apologize, in his own way, giving her an extra lesson here or there or not hassling her for a week’s time.

Chiharu had purple swirls on her cheeks that matched her eyes, a pretty birthmark, and fluffy red hair she kept in a ponytail. Then came Emiko. She was enthusiasm embodied, and even Mito couldn’t keep up with her sometimes. She had been hyper even as a baby, giggling and reaching for everything in sight near constantly, and she had tired their mother out even with her Uzumaki stamina. Ashina had quickly gotten used to having his beard tugged on relentlessly when she had been small. She looked like her sisters, with red hair and purple eyes, but her hair was much rougher and spikier.

And finally, Hanako. Her hair was completely straight, like Mito’s, and she let it hang down and hide her face most of the time. She was so quiet and yet not at all naïve and timorous like some people first believed.

Their childhood had been spent in their quarters and in the gardens, playing and learning the language of flowers and how to cultivate them from their mother, and Mito could remember it as if it was yesterday. She had been a tall woman with the deepest red hair, so wise even in her young age, always ready with a smile and a kiss if they got a cut or scrape. She taught them at night, teaching them how to draw seals and swirls over and over perfectly every time, showing them how to flip a knife in their hands.

Mito remembered feeling taken care of. She remembered not having to have the responsibility on her shoulders.

When her mother had died, she’d felt like she’d had to take on the role for her sisters then too. It was like a part of them had been cored out and taken away. A rare illness, it had been, one that left her wasting away, and Mito had died a little bit each day with her.

It wasn’t as if they never _saw_ their brothers. They simply had different quarters, different routines. They’d played together as children, thrown food across the table, the usual- but they’d also received more attention when it came to training them in the shinobi arts. There were certainly many kunoichi from Uzushio, but when it came to the clan head’s family, their daughters were considered first for marriage eligibility and not for combat.

It was selfish, but Mito had been glad that the world had been in turmoil for so long. It meant there were far less candidates for her father to consider when it came to her marriage. Her sisters were still too young- and she was firstborn. So she would go first.

That was her duty.

Mito’s mouth twisted in distaste.

“Hello, Hotaka,” she noted idly as she saw her youngest sibling come into view in the garden. He had his red hair tied into a high ponytail, and he wore a smile as usual, so she schooled her own expression and rid herself of her bad mood.

“Hi, sister,” he replied, beaming at her. “I heard you went to the Land of Fire the other day.”

“I did. I’m sure Taro told you all about it.”

“Well, all he did was sit by the ship! He said you were the one scouting around. I’m sure you saw much more!”

Those who hadn’t left the island yet were still so naïve, Mito thought with some amount of sadness. They thought there were grand, exciting things in the world beyond, even if they rationally knew there was turmoil everywhere.

“It was different than Whirlpool,” she decided on. “More trees, more bushes. It’s inland, so there’s more land, obviously. Unfortunately the town was destroyed.”

“Oh.” His shoulders sagged a bit. “Well, at least none of you got hurt… Taro said you stole the lead out from under him,” he said, clearly paraphrasing, with a teasing grin on his face.

Mito couldn’t help but smile in return.

“We both know I’m by far very crafty. Taro is skilled, but stealth isn’t his best pursuit. On that matter, have you been practicing your transformation jutsu? The last time, I could clearly tell it was you.”

“Oh yeah! Here, watch!”

He quickly performed the jutsu and disappeared in a puff of smoke. In his place, there was a rock, with a splotch of red on it. Mito lifted her sleeve to hide her laugh.

“Hotaka, I can still tell.”

Another puff of smoke. He sat there, looking bedraggled. “What? But I thought I’d gotten it perfect!”

“You were still red,” she told him, amused, and he huffed. It was an ongoing issue. “Just keep practicing. You’ll get it eventually.”

“If you say so,” he mumbled, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. “Anyway, I’ve got to go meet master Susumu. Bye, sister.”

“Have a good session,” she replied, stepping aside so he could head up the path towards the house.

The gardens were still just as beautiful as they had been when her mother cared for them. Mito didn’t have the time to do it, between her training and taking care of her siblings, but the staff showed them appreciation in honor of the late mother.

Unique trees that blossomed with cherry blossoms year-round loomed overhead with full flowerbeds sewn into the earth at their roots. There were lines of strawberry bushes in the bulk of the garden, a rather small space, but when she was a child, it had felt like a giant maze as she chased Taro and Chiharu through them.

A head popped out of a nearby bush flowering with yellow leaves. Another species unique to Whirlpool. “I heard some news,” said Emiko, looking cheerful as ever, hair messy with leaves.

Mito raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh? Were you hiding it for later?”

The girl shuffled out of the bush and let out a giggle. “It’s always better when boys aren’t around,” she said, and the phrasing made something amused yet deep down ache inside. “Anyway, _I_ heard that there’s something weird going on with the Uchiha and Senju clans!”

“Weird? As in?”

“Weeeelll…” Emiko looked around and scuffed one sandal in the grass. “I’m not completely sure, but I heard a report come in that some of the fighting in the northwest has died down because something weird’s going on.”

“And by heard a report, I’m sure you mean you were hiding in the curtains of the meeting room again while Father talked with scouts.”

Emiko let out a guilty giggle and shrugged. “Maybe.”

Mito sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to get caught someday.” She only said it for show. Of course Ashina knew the girl was there. He just didn’t care, because they were discussing things even the common citizens of Uzushio would probably hear soon.

“Maybe so, but you’ll be there to bail me out,” Emiko told her with a wide grin. Mito would have ribbed her further, but there was no denying it. The girl wouldn’t believe her even if she said she would throw her to the wolves.

“Yes, I would, but I may not always be there in the first place,” Mito pointed out, placing a hand on her shoulder and steering her towards a gate in the garden that led outside. “Let’s do some training on that stealth of yours. It needs improvement.”

“Yay!”

“You won’t be so cheerful later, when you’re tired.”

They started down the path towards a small bridge that led to another island that broadened into the rest of Uzushio, where there were fields and even a few small forests to train in.

Mito paused when she caught sight of an attaché of foreigners walking up the main steps. From her distance, she could see they wore plain clothing, and muted armor. They all looked rather plain, in fact, compared to the Uzumaki in the city.

She hadn’t been aware they were going to receive visitors. Some of them wore swords on their hips; others simply had kunai and shuriken pouches. The fact they still had their weapons meant they were being allowed- maybe not welcomed, necessarily- but allowed to approach with some measure of trust.

It was an odd occurrence.

“Sissy? You coming?”

“Yes, Emiko,” Mito replied, vaguely on autopilot as she thought of where the shinobi might have been from. They had no technical “allies.” They had no treaties or alliances. There were so many clans, some of which they’d never come into conflict with, but only one she thought they might be less threatening towards.

_Something weird is going on with the Senju and Uchiha clans._

That could mean anything. Perhaps there was a war so great the Senju were now at their doorstep to ask for aid. The idea put a pit in Mito’s stomach.

Their peace was so fragile. Their isolation from the world could be broken at any moment, their defenses penetrated, and her brothers and sisters would know nothing but war.

Then again, apparently the fighting had died down. That pointed to something more positive, but no matter what was going on, for some reason, there was still a bad feeling in Mito’s gut.

And her gut feelings were always right.


	3. our names in the sky (just for tonight)

“That’s not how you do it.”

“Yes it is!”

“If it was, it would be working.”

“Then show me again!”

“I have shown you, three times now. The problem is you aren’t focusing.”

Emiko set her quill down and folded her arms, a clear pout on her face. She had a scroll draped over a log, where she’d tried multiple times to create the seal Mito had made.

“Maybe if I stare at it long enough it’ll work,” she said, and then set about to doing just that: staring.

Mito withheld a laugh. “Just staring at it isn’t going to do anything,” she said, amused, as she reached down to the log from where she sat on a tree stump and took the quill. “Watch me, again, but more carefully.”

Emiko’s eyes followed her hand. Mito’s nails were painted sea green, just like their mother’s hand been, and it distracted her for a mere moment, all it took to take her attention away from the movements. Then Mito was finished, and had set the quill down again, and raised an expectant eyebrow at her.

“Uggggggh,” Emiko groaned, nose crinkling. “I don’t get it at all.”

“Please, Emiko,” said Hanako as she appeared out of thin air, making her older sister shriek and nearly fall over even though she was already sitting on the grass. “It’s an easy technique.”

With a wild gesture no normal person could understand, Emiko waved her hand around and finally settled on pointing at her younger sister. “Hey! Don’t sneak up on me!”

“You’d recognize it better if you’d have perfected the technique, like I had.”

“No need to rub it in,” Emiko muttered under her breath, attempting the seal again. As expected, nothing happened when she funneled chakra into it. She let out a sigh and slumped over, disappointed. Hanako leaned over, curious, in a genuine attempt to see where she’d gone wrong and tell her.

A voice called out from afar. “Mito! Mitooo!” Chiharu was running down the path leading to their clearing, waving. “One of the maids told me you were training!”

Mito smiled. Chiharu came to a stop, hands on her knees and panting, clearly having run all the way there. Even if she didn’t have as much raw talent as some Uzumaki, the girl had the drive to succeed that would take her farther. “I suspect you want to join in?”

“Of course!”

“You made a little wiggle there,” Hanako said, pointing at the paper on the log. “Straighten it out.”

“If I do that will it work?”

“Well, that and also…”

Chiharu peered over Emiko’s head to look too. Mito gazed at the three of them fondly, wishing she could just stay in that moment forever, with them all there and not going anywhere.

“And if you do that, it should work like normal,” Chiharu was saying, demonstrating with her finger in midair. “Just don’t forget the two!”

It probably sounded like utter nonsense to those unfamiliar with fuinjutsu, but it all had a sense to it. Mito watched as Emiko stuck her tongue out over her lip, concentrating so hard her eyes narrowed into slits, and tried drawing the seal on her wrist to charge with chakra.

The air around her shimmered a little, then she disappeared from view.

“Yes!” her voice squealed from the same place she’d been sitting. “Did it work? It felt different! Can you see me?”

“No,” Hanako noted with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes!”

“Good job,” Mito said, trying hard not to laugh. “The next part is learning to throw kunai in this state.”

“But I already know how to throw kunai,” said the perturbed voice of the invisible Emiko. There was a ruffle as she presumably got up and rooted around in her pouch. “Like- oh.”

Chiharu snickered lightly. Hanako looked askance with a smirk on her face, trying to hide her amusement.

“It’s harder when you can’t see what you’re aiming with,” Mito said, once again smiling. “This is what truly perfects your aim. You never have to look at your instrument again, only set your sights on your target.”

“Oh…I get it now. That seems…pretty smart,” Emiko said, sheepish.

“Well, go on now. Aim for one of the targets.”

They went on with target practice for a good hour. Eventually, Emiko’s jutsu broke, and she shimmered back into visibility without even realizing it. Hanako and Chiharu let her throw another good four kunai before she noticed, and it made her yell at them as they laughed.

Their bickering never grew old. Emiko shouted as Chiharu waved her hands back and forth, trying to convince her they hadn’t been making fun of her after all, while Hanako stared into the trees with a lurking smirk. Something like contentment settled in Mito’s chest.

“All right, you three,” she interrupted their racket, trying to tame a wide grin. “Let’s go back home. We should get something to eat before doing any taijutsu today.”

“Yes, sissy,” Emiko muttered, her steam gone as they began their trek. It wasn’t a long one, and Mito couldn’t help but wonder if the foreigners would still be there when they returned.

She decided to go through the front. It was their home, after all. The guards deferred to them with a respectful bow.

To her surprise, she noted that the greeting room was empty. She suspected her father had gone to his office, or the private meeting room, to speak with their guests. A quick check told her the foreign chakra signatures were in the east wing as she had thought.

Her sisters were distracted as they returned to their living room and rang a bell to have food delivered for lunch, but Mito’s thoughts were on the foreign shinobi. Was it a matter that took so long to discuss? Or was her father just being cautious?

Even as a plate was set in front of her at their low table, she thought it over and ate her meal absentmindedly.

There was a knock on the sliding door that led into the garden. Emiko got up with a jump and ran over, swishing it open to reveal the smiling face of Katsuro. He was friendly, and agreeable, like Hotaka, but had grown more reserved from them over the years. He was older than Hotaka, more close to Taro.

“I smelled fried salmon,” he said in a cheerful voice.

“Come on in, brother!” Emiko replied, a thousand times more cheerful. “There’s plenty!”

She swooshed over to the table and scrambled around to make a place for him and make a plate. She wasn’t trying to go fast, it was just her natural state.

“Hello, Katsuro,” Mito greeted her brother, giving him a smile. He returned it, but it felt a little distant.

“Afternoon, sister.”

He sat down and began eating with them. Emiko ranted to him about all sorts of things, from the giant fish she’d caught the other day to her latest success with their invisibility technique. She always kept conversation at the table going. Chiharu tried, too, but Emiko was simply a chatterbox.

“And I finally hit the target dead center, too.”

“Did you? Congratulations, it’s a useful skill.”

“Yeah, and that means Sissy will teach me her other jutsu now, too! I can’t wait!”

“It is a prime opportunity. She does know many useful jutsu.”

“You should come train with us some time!”

“I will if I can. I’m usually quite busy with master Susumu.”

“Oh, right…well, if you have any free time.”

“I’ll…try to make some. I think I can get away for a while.”

Katsuro hadn’t been able to spend time with them all at once for a few weeks now. It was nice to see him re-integrate himself, in a sense.

“I would like to show you my archery, Katsuro,” said Chiharu with a smile. She was older than him, just by a little- which was part of their family’s ‘bad luck,’ that every boy had been preceded by a girl- but still looked up to him like he was an older brother. “I think I’ve gotten quite better at it. Maybe I can get us dinner one night.”

“Father should be impressed by that,” the boy replied. His eyes were a duller shade of purple than theirs, more like a stone than a gem. His hair was a deeper red, as well, however, so it complimented him. “Hunting is useful.”

He seemed to look at everything on a scale of how useful it was or wasn’t. Mito wondered if that was innate or something else he’d had instilled in him. She wondered how much of their selves was innate, and how much of it was instilled.

“Are Hotaka and Taro around? We should eat together some time,” she said.

He smiled with a half-shrug. “Who knows what Taro is doing? And I think Hotaka is harassing the dog shelter again. He said he wanted to go pet some.”

He did like to do that. Mito had wanted to get him a dog when they were younger, but Ashina said it would just be a needless distraction.

They didn’t actually end up going back to train. Mito didn’t mind. She let herself bask in her siblings and enjoy herself, feeling once again like it was a calm moment she would miss as time went on. She didn’t have all of them there, but it was still a scene she looked on fondly. They ate slowly and finished late into the afternoon, busied with a conversation interlaced with laughter and teasing; eventually Katsuro got up and left for his quarters, as he had things to do- they all always had things to do- and it was just the sisters, and Mito let herself bask in that too.

She loved them all. She didn’t want to leave her siblings.

She wondered how much of human nature was instilled in them.

Chiharu laughed as Emiko aimed a piece of salmon at her mouth. It was cold, but they didn’t care.

She never wanted to leave them.

She wondered how much of herself was hers.

But what wouldn’t she give for them if it meant a peaceful life?

Before they knew it, it was darkening out. It was a rare occurrence for them to spend a whole afternoon lounging. Chiharu and Emiko were still energetic, running about the living room and playing, and Hanako sat on the sofa as she read a book from the Land of Water, something about a quarrel between two families that each had a member who was in love with the other.

Mito was the one who interrupted them and wrangled them into bed, even though they were all near adulthood, as she always did. She always checked on each of them before she herself retired. It helped her relax, to see them sleeping in their beds, or just dozing. Knowing that they were each still there.

She closed her eyes as she laid in bed. The foreign chakras had gone. It had happened sometime in the afternoon, and nothing obvious had happened since.

Mito slept, and wondered.


	4. the space between

Mito was called into the front hall that morning.

She stood there with a face of stone, waiting for her father, as Taro stood beside her. She knew well what he thought: that she should be standing back behind him with their siblings as they waited, and he should be treated as the only eldest. And for all intents and purposes, Mito knew she should have. It was the proper duty. The proper thing to do. The duties and responsibilities she held in life drew and quartered her for one path, and it was slated from birth.

And yet something defiant in her still refused to lay down, maybe because her mother had always introduced her as _firstborn_ princess, maybe because her siblings all still gave her a respect a little different than the one they gave Taro, maybe because it was just in her nature.

She wondered about human nature.

Ashina appeared from the curtains leading to his wing of the home. He nodded at them and walked over to his seat, where two guards stood. Mito wondered if what he had to say was serious, since they were there. One was one of her cousins- she had many cousins- a man who always had a stern look to him.

“Thank you all for rising in a timely manner,” her father began. He took a small puff of his pipe, which held an Uzumaki concoction of herbs, not tobacco. It helped his breathing, in his old age; he didn’t have particularly bad breathing, but it was a precautionary measure. “Yesterday I received some news. It had appeared that something odd was going on in the Land of Fire, to say the least, and there were conflicting reports arising from a variety of places. However, yesterday, a small group of Senju shinobi arrived to speak with me.”

Mito inhaled and tried to untense her shoulders. So she had been right.

“Apparently,” Ashina continued on dryly, “the Senju and Uchiha have decided, of all things, to make a truce. To longer fight, in an attempt to end the conflict in their lands.”

Mito blinked.

That…was a surprise.

A truce? Between the Senju and Uchiha?

She may not have been familiar with the Senju and Uchiha, but everyone knew of them, to an extent. Everyone knew they’d been at each other’s throats for decades, if not longer. The conflict between those two clans extended so far back it couldn’t even be called a blood feud anymore. It was a war between two sides that, on their own, were formidable enough; if they were fighting, even other clans avoided the areas they were in.

“And you believe that?” Taro asked, frowning. He sounded just as incredulous as Mito felt.

“Not entirely,” Ashina replied as he sat there and closed his eyes, thumb circling the end of his pipe as he spoke. “I don’t think they were lying, and they were indeed Senju. I would be able to tell from their chakra alone if they were not. But I have doubt as to whether this truce will last. We all know how deep this conflict runs.”

The room filled with grimaces, even from the younger members who hadn’t been graced with the opportunity to leave Whirlpool. They’d all heard stories.

“They goal is to create a village,” Ashina went on. “Not entirely unlike this one, but larger, much larger. This is simply our home. They are meaning to create a spot in the Land of Fire that any clan that wants to join may flock to.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Taro stammered, dumbfounded. “It won’t last!”

Ashina opened one eye and looked at him intently. The man shut his mouth and frowned.

“Even if it is a fool’s game, the desire behind it is admirable,” Mito piped up, not caring when her brother gave her a vaguely annoyed glance. “So they mean to end the conflict in the region through the creation of a coalition that can defeat any smaller threat.”

“Precisely. And though it may fail, it would do us well to pay attention to it. They have informed me that a spot has been chosen, and construction started. The Senju, being our cousins, thought to invite us there with amicable intentions. If this village is to prosper, it follows it would make an alliance with ours.”

Mito’s mouth felt vaguely dry. She didn’t feel nervous, per se, but something about the whole thing was throwing her off. And yet…it wasn’t such a bad idea.

 _Something_ had to be done. Was the world meant to just keep on suffering, forever? Wouldn’t it be nice if they could take their tiny scrap of peace and expand it to the rest of the world? The Land of Fire was their closest neighbor, and a large nation. If the Senju and Uchiha, the most powerful forces in the region, united in this village, it could change the very foundation of the country.

“If it does hold strong,” she said, “I think it’s a great opportunity.”

Taro eyed her warily. “It also means we would be aligning ourselves with one entity over the others, and that would make us a target to those other entities. Their enemies would become our enemies.”

“They would also provide us protection. Invasion from the Land of Fire would be nigh impossible.”

“And what if they fail spectacularly? What then?”

“We can’t say they’ve failed before they’ve done it.”

“Your back and forth is as interesting as ever,” Ashina interrupted with a cocked eyebrow, making Taro straighten with a slight flush, while Mito simply looked back to him, “but I do have a plan of action already. They claim their settlement will be primed for a visit in two weeks’ time. I will send a group there to examine the situation.”

Taro thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

He sounded like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue instead.

“Who’ll be going?” Chiharu asked, speaking for the first time since they’d filed in.

Their father took another drag of his pipe. “I’ve decided the wisest course of action is to send three strong shinobi and one of my own children, as a show of respect. Mito, you will go and see this new village, and assess it.”

“What?” Taro asked, startled. “But-”

Mito could see his hands clench into fists. Ashina gave him a sharp glance. “You are my eldest son, Taro. I would not send you out so quickly.”

And, even though his words felt genuine, and they stung, because it felt like Mito was devalued in his place, it still somehow felt like she was being favored by being chosen for the task.

“You will assess the village,” Ashina said, looking her in the eyes. “Its capabilities, its possibilities, and the Senju, as well as the Senju clan head, Senju Hashirama. He sent the offer personally, and we have ties that run deep between our clans from long ago. Is this understood?”

Mito’s nails dug into her skin. Senju Hashirama. Assess. Possibilities. She knew what was expected.

She wondered how much of herself she could change.

She wasn’t dim. There was a possibility she should marry Senju Hashirama. She was the first daughter of the Uzumaki, and it would cement their villages together forever. It only made sense. By all rights, it should have made sense to her. It should have been the most rational course, the most logical solution.

She wondered if a person’s nature could change.

“Of course, Father,” she said, and something defeated in her meant it. Something else rushed up within her to combat it. She put aside her feelings, for the moment, at least, and quirked an eyebrow. “Who is to go with me?”

“Isamu and Kenjin, here, as well as Saburo. You’ll remember him from your mission to one of our outposts last month.”

“Of course, I do.” Mito wondered if her sisters were looking at her. She wondered what they would see. “I’ll make preparations right away.”

Ashina nodded, satisfied, and put his pipe down on his knee. “Then you are all dismissed.”

Mito dipped herself into a respectful but short bow and headed for the hallway. Her siblings filed past her, muttering amongst themselves, and she went at a slow enough pace that she would be left alone with Taro once they went to their respective quarters. She could sense that he had something he wanted to say.

“Well?” she prompted, looking over her shoulder. “What is it?”

Taro looked like he’d paused in place in the middle of the hall. Some of the doors had been slid open, and on either side of him, blossoms from the trees were wafting through the air. Mito sometimes wished things were as simple as when they were both small and chased them together.

“Just…” Taro took a deep breath and let it out harshly, looking away from her. “Be mindful, Mito.”

“Thank you, Taro.” The words felt hollow, but Mito mustered her most genuine smile. “I do appreciate it.”

“Right,” he muttered, then stepped out and walked away, a tension in his shoulders. Mito wondered what this new village was to be called.

It was hard to believe that something good, that wouldn’t cause strife, was on the horizon. She hoped it had been named by someone who was looking forward.

She wanted to look forward.

Mito, however, felt like she had been backstepping her whole life. One step forward, two steps back. A slow pattern that led around back into a circle.

_Here’s my little princess. My firstborn._

She wondered if she could change.

She didn’t want to leave.

She closed her hand into a fist and looked over at the trees, watching the blossoms fall. Life was unchangeable. The world was a cruel place, and it was home. Mito would take whatever came her way as it came; there was no use worrying now. No use _hoping_ now.

She retired that night and sat at her vanity, an open box on the desk, gingerly stroking her mother’s old comb. It was made from the cherry trees’ wood, glossy all over, with delicately painted flowers on the surface done in yellow.

_The person I made this for isn’t around anymore, but you may keep it forever, little blossom. You can remember her for me._

She decided she would wear it in her bun when she left. It only felt wrong to leave it behind- like she was leaving a tiny little part of herself behind too.

 _I miss you,_ she thought, and she didn’t know who she was talking to. Her mother. The hope of someone she’d never met. Someone she’d forgotten. It didn’t matter.

She closed the box and put it back into her vanity. She really should prepare.


	5. mirror, mirror, who is loneliest of all

Mito was awakened, two nights before she was scheduled to leave, by a disturbance from her sister’s bedroom. It was a minor fluctuation of chakra, but Mito had been sleeping lightly, and got up at once; she knew what it meant.

She settled on the edge of Hanako’s bed and gently lifted the girl’s head into her lap, stroking her hair with the softest touch. It was what their mother had done for her when she had nightmares as a child. It was what she’d done for Mito, once.

Mito knew what Hanako always dreamt of now, when she had a nightmare. It was how feeble their mother had become in her final days, how gaunt she’d been, how they could see her bones and her face looked sunken in. Hanako had stood behind the doorway, peeking inside, too frightened by her mother’s appearance to go in. And it was something she regretted with everything in her soul, because the day after their mother had passed while Mito held her hand.

The girl whimpered in her sleep. She pressed into Mito’s hand, chakra slowly evening out. It was better to calm her, slowly, and gradually bring her out of the dream, rather than shake her awake.

With Chiharu, it was the opposite. Mito always shook her awake at once when she realized what was going on, because Chiharu just wouldn’t snap out of it if she didn’t. Emiko and Hotaka were like that, too. Taro had always jolted awake on his own in the night, and Katsuro preferred to be lulled to wakefulness like Hanako.

Eventually, Hanako calmed. Her eyes opened, just a hair, and she let out a vague noise.

“Shh,” Mito whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right. I’m right here.”

The girl drifted off again. Mito kept stroking her hair for a while, perhaps more for her own comfort, and waited until she was firmly in the land of sleep before getting up and making her way back to her own room.

Before her hand was on the knob, a shuffling sound behind her made her pause. She glanced back and found Chiharu standing in the doorway to her room, holding the stuffed bunny Emiko had sewn for her a few years back. It was horribly done, with uneven ears and one eye that was botched and had just been stitched up, but she loved it all the same.

Even with its appearance, Mito had acted like it was a grand gift when Chiharu had first unwrapped it. Emiko had put so much effort into it, it would have been cruel not to.

“Mito?” the younger woman asked quietly. “You are coming back, right?”

“Of course I am,” Mito replied, quietly, so she wouldn’t wake her other two sisters. “I promise.”

“Good…I mean, that’s good. I just…worry.” Chiharu stared at the floor at her feet. It was hard to read her expression in the dark room, but it looked downcast. “I was thinking…usually you would have left home by now…”

She politely danced around ‘gotten married’ like it was a yucky phrase she didn’t want to utter.

“If things change a lot…if more people make big villages…there might be lots of new visitors. And places to go.” Chiharu frowned at the floor, as if she was trying to make her point but just didn’t know what to say. “And…”

“I know,” Mito told her, and she did. She hated that she did. “I know.”

“So…what…what-”

“It will be all right,” Mito soothed her, even though she knew she couldn’t say that, and she hated herself for saying it. She hated herself for lying. She hated herself for not believing it, and wanting to believe it. “I promise.”

Chiharu finally looked up at her with a weak smile. “Well, your promises are gold, right sis…?” Mito had never broken her word, ever, and so they joked that if she made a promise it was worth more than gold.

“…yes,” Mito whispered in the dark, feeling a stinging in her eyes. “They indeed are.”

Chiharu nodded and looked back at the ground. She receded back into her room, mouth moving in a silent good night, and Mito stood there, throat heavy with a lump that wouldn’t go away.

She wanted to believe it.

_Everything will be fine, little blossom._

In the morning, each of her sisters tiptoed around her, in the figurative sense, being especially kind and giving her more smiles than usual and asking for more hugs than they usually ever did. Mito let herself linger, and neglect her daily duties a bit, and spend just a bit more time at the training ground with them and at dinner. And dinner lingered, for hours, until it was dark out, because none of them wanted it to end.

And she put them each to bed again, more thoroughly than ever, pulling the covers up over them rather than just looking through the door to reassure herself. She patted Emiko on the head, kissed her temple, went to Chiharu, lulled Hanako to sleep. She didn’t see her brothers at all, but she didn’t think it was on purpose. Maybe they didn’t feel like they should come see her.

She didn’t sleep at all that night. She laid awake, alone in her bed, and stared at the ceiling, where she’d once carved a leaf when she first learned to walk on walls. She had been mischievous as a child, and her mother always called her down with a laugh, but never noticed the leaf.

Mito stared at it, like it would give her an answer to a question she didn’t know, and wondered at how hollow the space beside her felt.

It felt like only minutes had passed when the sun came up. Mito was wide awake, but she didn’t feel tired. In fact, she felt more wired than the night before.

It was with a grimace that she got up and around, getting dressed, spending a little more time on her bun than usual. She put her mother’s comb into place with care, watching the paint on it twinkle in the morning light in her mirror, and with a sigh, got up to leave her room.

Her sisters were all gathered in the living room. They looked up when she stepped out, smiling unconvincingly.

“Come along and see me off!” Mito said, cheerfully, as if she was about to go on a fun venture. They followed her single-file out of the home, through the empty front hall, down the steps, down through the village, and to the farthest dock there was that didn’t go all the way out to the shore of the entire island. Her formal sandals made clacking sounds on the wood as she stepped onto it and looked at the boat where her guards were making preparations.

“Hello, sister,” Hotaka said as he approached, obviously trying to go for a happy smile and failing a bit. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” Mito told him with a smile, watching Taro and Katsuro walk up behind him. At least Taro had come to see her off. She was his older sister, after all. “Good morning, you two.”

Katsuro smiled, a polite smile. “You look very pretty, aneki.”

Her kimono was still functional- she could fight in it- but it was still more formal than her usual attire. She missed her trousers and regular shoes.

“Thank you. I trust you’ll take good care of the village while I’m gone.”

“Of course!”

Mito turned so she was facing them all, and perused each of their faces, feeling her heart drop a little bit.

She wished everything could stay as it was.

Chiharu jumped forward and rushed in for a hug, burying her face in Mito’s shoulder and hiding a sniffle. “C-come back quickly, all right?”

Emiko was there a second later, tangling herself in with Chiharu, and Mito stroked both of their hair, sympathetic. They let go of her so Hanako could hug her, and Chiharu quickly dabbed at her eyes, hoping the others wouldn’t see.

“It’s going to be all right,” she said, softly, and it made Hotaka quickly look away from her. Katsuro had folded his hands primly behind his back, and looked solemn, and Taro simply gave her a quick nod, and the youngest boy must have felt like he should imitate them. “I’ll even bring you all gifts of some sort when I come back.”

“Y-yeah, that’d be great,” Emiko stammered, rubbing the side of her face on her shoulder, as if she was still disguised. She was usually the first to jump at the opportunity for gifts. “Bring us some new books to read.”

“I will.”

Hanako was staring at the ground. She looked up at Mito, one half of her face hidden by her hair, and she said nothing, but her imploring expression was solemn and intent. _Just come back._

Mito didn’t know why it felt like she was marching off to her death sentence. She didn’t know what about this felt so off-putting. And she didn’t much want to do it, but it was her duty.

She stepped onto the boat and looked back at them to wave. They were all watching her, standing straighter than usual, and she could tell they were putting so much effort into not crying.

She watched them until she could no longer see them, and then she turned to look out to sea.

“Isamu,” she said, to the younger of the guards; she’d been on several missions with him before. He looked up from where he’d been coiling some rope for later use. “By the way, have we gotten word of what this village is called?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so, actually,” the man replied, rubbing his chin as he stared off into space. “Kono…something, Kono…I forgot the rest.”

“I think it was Konohagakure no Sato,” Saburo chimed in, around a cigar in his lips. “The Village Hidden in the Leaves.”

“Seems like kind of a funny name. I mean…the entire Land of Fire has trees in it.”

“That’s what I said.”

Mito looked away from them and at the horizon. She felt calmer, now that they were actually on their way, and there was nothing to look at but the familiar ocean. A small smile appeared on her lips.

It was a nice name. It was calming, friendly. Even if it was a little funny, that was better than something threatening, something that would make newcomers feel nervous.

“I like it, actually,” she said. “I think it’s fitting.”


	6. the chains of command

Senju Toka was _pissed_.

And when she was pissed, that meant everyone around needed to stay very, very far away from her.

Steam was practically rolling off her shoulders as she marched towards the blue tent set not too far away from Hashirama’s wooden one. Her clansmen took note of her thunderous expression and darted out of the way in fear, clutching supplies they’d been carrying or simply trying to look as tiny as a mouse.

When she reached the tent, she reached out and slapped the flap aside, uncaring as to whether Tobirama was busy or in a state of undress or doing virtually anything that he wanted privacy for. He was most likely sitting cross-legged on the ground, reading a scroll, reading glasses slid down his nose, and indeed, he was doing just that.

He looked up at once when she appeared. “Toka?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Tobirama,” Toka seethed, “your house.”

A crease formed in his brow. He didn’t show any overt fear, but he did slowly roll up the scroll and set it subtly aside. “What about it?”

Many of their houses had been built, by now. They were still using the tents to let the finishing touches be put on or they were in the process of transitioning from here to there.

Tobirama’s was two-story, but on the smaller side and more unassuming, a bit drab in all honesty. He had the Senju emblem carved above his door like they all did.

“Why. Was there. A corpse in it?”

“What?” Tobirama’s face curdled in confusion. “You-”

Toka stuck her foot out, making him flinch back seeing as it was covered in blood. She had gone into his house, expecting him to be either there or his tent- she wasn’t sure which- and immediately heard a _squelch_. There was a corpse cut open on his floor, right there in the living room, somehow not leaking blood everywhere.

“I went to find you to deliver these notes from Hashirama,” Toka continued, holding up said notes, which by now were crinkled from how she’d been clenching them in her fist, “and I found a _dead body_ instead. Why was it there?”

Tobirama leaned back, just another half an inch, and said his next words slowly. “It was just an experiment-”

“Another goddamned experiment! What was it this time? How fast the liver fails when exposed to poison? How much damage the heart can survive with?”

“…if you’re curious, it was if the system could still work without a functioning stomach-”

Toka let out a wordless scream, shaking her foot and getting a few little splatters of blood on him. He cringed.

“Clean. It. Up. I shouldn’t step into one of your messes if I need to come get you! Get somewhere else to do those ungodly things!”

“Perhaps I can proposition Hashirama to create me a laboratory,” the man muttered with the air of a cowed child, even as he tried not to sink under her glare. “And…the notes?”

Toka threw them at him, not caring that they smacked him in the face. To his credit, he reacted as quickly as he could, catching them before they fell to the floor and doing his best to straighten them out. At least Hashirama had neat handwriting, almost inhumanely so, so it was easier to read.

Toka waited there, steaming, while he read through them all, eyes moving fast across the pages. She knew she probably had a task somewhere in there, so she might as well stick around.

Tobirama hummed under his breath and reached for the notebook _he_ used to take notes, and a quill, and began writing. “It seems brother wants to send a group to Uzushio.”

Toka raised an eyebrow. “The Land of Whirlpools?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever even seen an Uzumaki before.”

“I did once, when I was young,” Tobirama said, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling of the tent as he thought of whatever memory was being jostled around in his brain. “It was just a messenger. I believe our father had sent to them asking for aid, but they’d declined to stay out of it. They were the only person I’ve ever seen with such bright red hair.”

Toka hummed, her anger on its way to evaporating, and thought on the idea. She wondered if all the Uzumaki had red hair. She couldn’t really imagine what they might look like.

“The Senju and Uzumaki clans are distant cousins, but it has been a long time since we held a formal true alliance,” Tobirama went on. “Though it would be advantageous to gain their favor now. I can see why they’re the first people Hashirama wants to ask.”

“Are they particularly strong? I’ve heard rumors, of course, but they keep to themselves so much.”

“They have life forces even stronger than that of the Senju. Their skill in fuinjutsu is also most impressive, if memory serves right. Long ago, history says they lived with the Senju in these lands, but when they migrated to the sea, they closed themselves off from the world.”

“I wonder why they left in the first place,” Toka wondered aloud, stretching her shoulder to get a knot out of it. “I suppose we’ll never know.”

“Probably not,” Tobirama agreed, setting aside Hashirama’s pages and now just using his notebook. “It was too long ago. However, I would hazard a guess and say they wanted to flee the conflict here. They’ve not been ones to make alliances or treaties ever since; they only occasionally trade with small coastal towns or outposts. Here,” he said, ripping a sheet out of his notebook and handing it to her. “I’m giving this task to you.”

Toka took the paper and gave it a quick perusal. “So the scouts think there is evidence of the Kurama in the western glades?”

“It appears so. Hard to tell, with how easily they can cloak their entire clan,” Tobirama said, with just a little bit of annoyance in his tone. It wasn’t the kind that meant he was angry, but the kind that meant he was begrudgingly impressed and it was occasionally an annoyance.

Toka could tell the difference after so many years. She’d been like an older sister to Tobirama and his brother growing up, keeping them out of troubles at times and knocking their heads together when necessary. They could both be bullheaded in their own ways.

The Kurama clan was an interesting case. They weren’t particularly strong, in face-to-face combat, but their skill in genjutsu would have been the best in the land if the Uchiha were not also there. One might say that even still, on the basis of pure skill without considering any dojutsu, they were still the best.

They migrated a lot, trying to avoid the fights between other clans, as they were a smaller clan themselves. Even so, it was impressive how they managed to cloak their entire clan when they were on the move. When other clans did catch wind of them and decide to attack, they lured their foes into dark spaces and spread them out, using their genjutsu to trap them in endless hells. Though they’d never managed to defeat anyone else wholly, plenty of clans had come away from attempts to overtake them sourly nursing their wounds.

Their craftiness and stealth would be an asset to Konoha’s shinobi. There was just one thing Toka didn’t like about her mission to go find them.

“Kenichi is coming?” she noted dryly, looking at the list of shinobi she was to take with her.

She looked up at Tobirama, and he grimaced slightly, though he was obviously trying to hide it. “We’re short on men right now. Unfortunately, you need a fourth, and those I would usually choose for this job are tied up elsewhere.”

“Very well. I’ll keep him in line. But if he acts up like he did on that mission last week, I’ll discipline him myself, since your discipline will then not have stuck.”

“Do what you will,” Tobirama told her with a wave of his hand, pushing his glasses up his nose with the other. “You’re the captain.”

Toka snorted and gave the flap to the tent a swat, slipping out into the open air with a deep sigh. Her, Kenichi, and two Uchiha. This mission already sounded like a goldmine for testing their newly acquired alliance.

On the last mission she’d gone on with Kenichi, he’d nearly gotten into a fistfight with the Uchiha they were assigned with, and Toka had barely refrained from breaking his nose. Even if she wasn’t entirely comfortable around the Uchiha herself yet, her clansman had been the one who kept spurring on the tension, and he’d just kept egging the Uchiha kunoichi on and trying to goad her. The woman had shown a massive amount of patience; Toka probably would have sent Kenichi flying into a tree if he’d done the same to her.

What had been the woman’s name again? God, Toka would usually know, she kept up on those things, but everything had been in such a tizzy lately that it had slipped her by. She glanced at the names on her paper and wondered if perhaps one was the same person. The incident hadn’t gotten to Hashirama’s ears, simply because it hadn’t needed to, and there were so many different things going on, so he wouldn’t have thought to perhaps keep the two separate.

Uchiha Naori and Uchiha Kotori. The names did sound familiar.

Half the equation clicked in her head when she saw a woman with a gentle face and deep violet hair so dark it almost appeared black in the right light carrying a crate of cabbage from one of Hashirama’s fields. Toka could remember her clearly now.

“Ah, Naori-san. We have a mission. Would you be able to gather Kotori-san for me?”

“Of course, as soon as I hand this off,” the woman replied with a smile. It wasn’t overly amicable, but it was quite polite. She was such a pleasant person to be around it was easy to forget she was an Uchiha. “And no need for formalities. You can call me Naori. We are allies now, after all.”

“All right, then. We’ll be heading west a bit. Not too far, but I would pack a few rations just in case. We’re going to attempt to contact the Kurama clan head.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.” Normally, Naori’s face was a calm mask, but her eyes lit up, shining with interest. They, too, were a deep purple. “I’ve never met a Kurama. I would be interested to learn genjutsu from them.”

The woman was so open-minded. An Uchiha, learning genjutsu from a small clan. Toka would have shook her head if she wasn’t in the middle of a conversation.

“I’ll get Kotori and meet you at the village gate. It should only take us about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll see you then,” Toka said with a nod, then set off to find Kenichi. God, she wasn’t looking forward to it.

At least the other two ninja on the mission were women. Toka really preferred to work with them; they were always more agreeable, especially Uchiha ones.

And they were easy on the eyes too. It would’ve been boring if she only had three men on her squad.


	7. that which is hidden

Toka was used to mud, living in the Land of Fire, but she hated when she stepped in a particularly deep patch and it oozed up over the edges of her sandals and settled between her toes. Even if the rest of her was covered in dirty, that sensation alone was what made her feel filthy and like she needed a bath.

The fields towards the west had just gotten rain, so the grasses themselves hid the mud like they were hiding the Kurama clan. The leftover humidity in the air made Toka grimace.

She heard Naori let out a light sigh behind her. “I think we should try and assemble a mantle friendlier to the heat, Kotori. Don’t you think that would be convenient?”

“Undoubtedly. Maybe integrate it with those new vests the Senju want everyone to wear somehow.”

At the back, she heard Kenichi let out a derisive snort. “Don’t the Uchiha all wear the same damn thing?”

Toka twitched. It had been four days since they’d left Konoha, and she wanted to put a kunai through her skull. Kenichi was riding the line of being just annoying enough it was an irritation but not being overtly aggressive, but it was starting to make even Naori look a little twitchy.

“We have variation,” Kotori rebuffed him with a mocking laugh. “Besides, all the Senju’s armor looks the same too.”

“It is very nice of them to give the Uchiha armor,” Naori said, in a valiant attempt to ease their conversation a little, and as usual, her attempt was spat upon.

“A mistake if I ever heard one,” Kenichi mumbled, almost too quiet to hear, and Toka’s hackles raised. By the gods, couldn’t the man just be quiet and suck it up if he had that much of a problem with it? Tobirama didn’t completely trust the Uchiha, but he wasn’t going around insulting them every which way.

“Enough, Kenichi,” she finally snapped, though she didn’t pause in their trek. “You’re giving me a goddamned headache.”

Their squad went completely silent, but she heard Kotori let out the smallest little chuckle under her breath. Toka bit into her lip to contain a smirk.

It was a testament to how annoying Kenichi was that she felt more comradery already with the other two women than him. They really weren’t all that bad- Kotori had been a bit of a puzzle at first, as she seemed more arrogant and haughty than Naori, but Toka had kept her distance and observed, instead of getting into baseless arguments. The woman was really only like that around other Uchiha, a form of teasing, and she was to some small extent around Senju, but only as a shield if they were rude first. She had a big bark- and a big bite, considering she was one of Madara’s lieutenants- but she kept her bite to herself. Toka had even seen her sitting in one of the fields while Naori put a flower crown on her head.

The sun was going down. “Let’s stop and make camp for the night,” Toka commanded, swinging her pack over her shoulder. “It feels like we’re going in circles, and it’ll be worse in the dark.”

Silently, her squadmates obeyed her. They found one of the smaller forests dotting the western expanse and set up a sealing barrier in between a few trees.

If she was being honest, Toka was starting to get frustrated. Naori was a sensor, which was why she had been brought along, and she’d said she could sense a large amount of chakra signatures in certain directions all day- then they would switch and be somewhere slightly different, so they would have to change direction.

They would set off in the morning. Toka suspected she knew the cause of it, and she had an idea as to how they may find the clan after all.

Naori and Kotori set up their bedrolls beside each other, on the opposite side of the campfire from Kenichi, while Toka merely sat against a tree in the middle. It seemed to be a routine for the two for Kotori to take out a comb and start raking it through Naori’s hair, taking care of the knots and dirt it had acquired since they’d started.

“Really? Combing your hair on a mission?” Kenichi asked, a disapproving grimace on his face. Kotori shot him an irritated glance, but didn’t respond and just looked back to Naori’s hair.

Naori folded her hands together, brushing a thumb over her knuckles, and stared off into the trees. She seemed relaxed by Kotori’s touch, if nothing else.

“Might as well braid each other’s hair,” Kenichi muttered.

Naori’s eyes tinted vaguely red as she turned to look at him. “Kenichi-san, I hope I’ve done nothing to offend you. We should be working together on this mission.”

The man harrumphed and didn’t reply. He watched Kotori gather Naori’s hair into a ponytail that involved a tight weave of some sorts that looked like it wouldn’t let a single strand loose.

Something about him staring seemed a little too voyeuristic to Toka. They hadn’t done anything to him, and he was just being disagreeable for no reason. “Pipe down already, Kenichi, or I’ll have you written up when we get back,” she said with a scowl. She was tired, sore, and hadn’t had anything good to eat for a few days.

Kotori turned her head to look at her in surprise and then went back to Naori’s hair. Clearly, the woman saw it was Toka’s problem and wasn’t going to stick her nose in it; she was straightforward like that. The Uchiha did seem as though they appreciated it, however. Their aura around Toka was much more friendly.

“Go the fuck to sleep.”

Kenichi’s eyes snapped over to her. He opened his mouth momentarily, like he was going to snap back at her, but clicked it shut with a scowl.

“And take that fucking glare off your face,” Toka continued, because she was in a sour mood. She let her teeth grind together as she stared at him. “When you address a superior you do it with respect.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, and it was sour and sarcastic, but he laid down on his roll with his back turned to them and didn’t say anything to him more. Toka was going to write him up anyway.

But at least he shut up for the rest of the night, and part of the next morning. They set off again, with Naori in the lead, and when she caught the chakra signatures they’d been looking for, Toka put her plan into place.

“Take us in the opposite direction,” she ordered.

Naori glanced back at her in surprise. “Are you sure-?”

“Yes, just do it.”

Naori looked hesitant, but nodded at her and took off running in a clear line away from the chakra. Toka caught pace with her until she was just behind her, hand on the hilt of her sword just in case.

“Now, use your Sharingan to its fullest extent!”

The wording was careful. It had been sheer chance Toka had caught a tiny glimpse of Naori’s eyes one day on the battlefield; she knew it wasn’t common knowledge she possessed a Mangekyo like Madara and Izuna did, and she figured there was a reason for it. It was why she’d ordered Kenichi to take up the rear.

There was a blaze of red as Naori did as she was told. She was running so fast her Sharingan leaked it like light shining from a lantern, and Toka had to admit, it was as impressive as the Uchiha thought.

“I see something,” Naori told her, then came to an abrupt halt on a rock overlooking a clearing. She crouched there with Toka at her side, examining the ground below with the flowers in her eyes.

They were pretty, Toka thought. An irony in the fact that it was one of the deadliest jutsu she knew.

“There’s a genjutsu. I don’t think I would have seen it before,” Naori told her, knowing she understood what she meant. Toka raised an eyebrow. A genjutsu user so powerful they could fool even the regular Sharingan? It may not have slid past the Mangekyo, but that was a feat in and of itself. “It scatters the chakra it’s hiding around so minutely and makes it seem as if it’s gathered somewhere else. The clan should be gathered in the valley ahead.”

Toka glanced down at the clearing they were above. There was a lone tree stump in the middle, with a kunai stuck in it.

“I think they knew we were coming.”

Naori let the Sharingan fade from her eyes and leapt down without being prompted. She walked to the stump and withdrew her sword, then stabbed it into the wood beside the kunai.

Kotori let out a sigh as she came up behind and did the same. “Hope this doesn’t go disastrously.”

Toka took her sword from its sheathe and set it into the stump with theirs. She glanced back at Kenichi, who was watching the stump warily.

“Kenichi, place your weapon down.”

“Really?” He eyed her with an air of suspicion, frowning. “This is probably a trap. I’m not going to leave myself with nothing to defend myself with-”

“Kenichi,” Toka snapped, her ire showing on her face, “put your fucking sword down. That’s an _order_.”

His jaw snapped shut. A glare heavy on his face, he slowly approached the stump and slammed his sword into it, then returned to his spot behind her. Toka decided she really fucking hated him.

The air in front of them started to bend. Kotori and Naori both looked supremely interested as a kunoichi stepped out, wearing a set of plain clothes and bearing seemingly no weapons. She looked at the white cloths tied around their foreheads and hummed.

“It took you less time to break our genjutsu than I thought,” she said with a tilt of her head. “It confuses most for weeks at a time.”

“It was quite impressive,” Naori replied. “Since you expected us, can I gather that you know why we’re here?”

“I assume the news I’ve heard from the east is true.”

Toka took a step forward and dropped to her knee. She bowed her head in respect, taking note of the girl’s white hair, tanned skin, and green eyes. She had a feeling she knew who they were speaking to.

“It is. My name is Senju Toka. I’ve come on behalf of my cousin, Hashirama.”

“You want us to join that village,” the woman surmised. She wasn’t dumb. It was fairly easy to guess why they’d come. “I admit the idea is one I’ll consider. For now, you should come in and speak with me more at length.”

The other three started to move forward. “Not you,” she said to Kenichi, expression dry. “No men are allowed within our grounds.”

His face twisted. “What? No men? That doesn’t make sense.”

“We are an all-female clan.”

He snorted. “Then you shouldn’t be allowing her fucking in,” he said, giving Kotori a contemptuous glance.

Naori’s head snapped around. Kotori didn’t look particularly angry, but Toka did notice a small spike in her chakra.

The woman in front of them smiled primly. “She is a woman just as the rest of us. I must say, Senju-san, you are not giving me a good impression of your village right now. Should I arrive, I will have to have a word with your clan head about you.”

Kenichi looked like he’d gotten slapped in the face. He flushed, looking like he wanted to turn and trek back to the village without them.

Two other kunoichi wearing masks stepped out of the barrier. They had unsheathed swords in their hands and blue bands tied around their biceps. Toka didn’t know what that meant, but judging by their chakra, it might have had something to do with their skills. They could probably take Kenichi on physically, without genjutsu, and that was probably rarer in a clan focused on genjutsu.

“Ana and Aria will keep you company,” the kunoichi continued. “You three may come in. You may call me Nikusui.”

Both Naori and Kotori went mildly tense. They each gave her a small bow. As Toka had suspected, the woman was the Kurama clan head. She was probably the one controlling the genjutsu in the first place.

“Uchiha Naori,” Naori offered, politely not looking at the guards.

“Uchiha Kotori.”

“What a pleasure to have two Uchiha visit. I’ve always wanted to pick your brains on the topic of genjutsu.”

“The pleasure is returned. I would rather like to discuss it with you should we find negotiations amicable.”

“Then by all means, come in.”

Toka let the two Uchiha go ahead of her. Nikusui turned and followed them with a smile, and Toka turned to Kenichi, quickly walking over to him and striking him in the gut fast enough it knocked the wind out of him. He bent over with a gasp, head bent back when she grabbed him by the scruff of his hair.

“Don’t you ever fuck around like that in my presence again,” Toka snarled into his ear. “You say anything more on this mission that jeopardizes our chances of winning them over, I’ll punish you myself. When I say understood, you say _yes sir._ ”

“Yes sir,” he gasped out, holding his stomach with the hand that wasn’t flailing in empty space, not sure what to do, and he stumbled when she released him. She sped back over to the barrier and past the two women standing there- both of them were taller than her- and that was saying something, because Toka was tall- and feeling vaguely satisfied when they pretended not to notice a thing.

They ended up spending two days with the Kurama clan, a small clan full of women holed up in the valley, and Toka almost would have said she preferred it to her own. Women everywhere- what a dream.

And it gave her a break from Kenichi, so that was a dream in and of itself.


	8. see no evil, speak no evil

The Kurama clan was clearly not rich; what armor they had was mismatched, so it was probably scavenged. They did have well-sewn clothes, however, which meant they had the money to get seamstress services from towns, or at least buy good fabrics to sew themselves.

They weren’t a clan like the Senju or Uchiha, where most could tell they shared bloodlines with a look; everyone in the Kurama looked different, from different heights to different hair and eye colors to different builds.

They were all, however, women, or those close to women.

It was refreshing. Toka glanced around as she stepped out of their visitors’ tent, having had no problem at all sleeping in a tent with Kotori and Naori- she actually liked them fairly well, she thought- and gazed at the encampment around her. Everything was neat and tidy and set into its place, well organized, and thus easy to pack up in a hurry. The clan’s belongings were sparse, and they’d mostly invested into such essentials as cooking pots or tents or extra weapons.

They weren’t extremely large, but it was easy to tell how they’d stayed afloat, with how hard they were to find.

“You look as though you have a question, Toka-san,” the voice of Nikusui interrupted her thoughts. She looked to the side where the other woman was standing, having appeared there silently. Or maybe Toka had simply been lost in thought.

“I do,” Toka admitted. “None of you look much alike. Does that have to do with the absence of men?”

“Yes,” Nikusui said with a smile. “It is tradition that we keep men out of our clan and only use them to reproduce if we need to at all. It’s born from the rarity of male children in the clan. To put it simply, there hasn’t been one in the last hundred years.” Toka’s eyebrow shot up. “Even if we think so at first, it always turns out different.”

“I see. So that explains the variety of appearances. And what of the genjutsu?”

“It is a skill passed down to all our daughters. However, since our negotiations have gone well, I will be straightforward: we only stay hidden so well due to our bloodline technique. It was difficult in past years when a user didn’t emerge, however, I carry it within me now. It allows extraordinarily strong genjutsu that the typical shinobi would not be able to recognize.”

She glanced at the tent, curiosity in her eyes, and Toka could tell she was wondering about Naori. She’d probably seen her eyes, and heard rumors about the Mangekyo Sharingan, and wanted to ask questions about it.

Politeness, however, got in the way.

“Why don’t we head up for breakfast and then return to my tent again for a final talk?”

Toka nodded and followed the woman away. It was interesting, being in the Kurama clan’s midst. Not all of them paid her any attention, or looked at her with friendliness, but it had a certain relaxed air to it.

Nikusui was clearly thinking over the offer carefully. She’d asked Toka all sorts of things; how the Senju and Uchiha had been getting along, how large the village had gotten (in square feet, not general terms), what sorts of defenses they had, if any other clans had joined yet, if any had been invited, what types of food they had readily available, what space would be offered to joining clans. She asked so many questions it almost gave Toka a headache. In fact, she was repeatedly glad for the break every time they left their conversations off.

In the end, however, it paid off. It was clear as day that joining Konoha was wiser than staying on their own.

Nikusui agreed to migrate and spent the next day packing, busying herself with preparations. Toka thought some might have called her decision hasty, but she admired it. The woman didn’t need endless time to weigh her options and decide and thought over all the possibilities so quickly.

They ended up backtracking their way to the village with the clan on their heels, shrouded in genjutsu, and Toka’s assumption that the blue band referred to more physical fighters proved correct when they ran into a small bandit group. Nikusui had decided to deal with them directly since they were terrorizing civilians, and the genjutsu types hung back while the guards rushed forward to fight.

Toka noticed, however, that Nikusui wove signs for jutsu that looked like ninjutsu but were not. They were bullets of water that destroyed bodies but ended up harmlessly going through the trees behind them. Bursts of kunai that impaled a bandit but disappeared when they had no further use.

It was genjutsu that could kill like it was real.

And it set a cold pit into her stomach, she had to admit, and she couldn’t help but be very glad that they had won the woman to their side.

* * *

Upon arrival Nikusui set about to talking to Hashirama and Madara immediately, seeming particularly interested in Madara, as Toka saw her asking questions and looking specifically at him while they talked and she headed for Tobirama’s tent. She only caught a glimpse, but she said something that made the Uchiha’s face heat up, laughing when she did, and Toka wasn’t surprised she’d managed it at all.

Tobirama was bent over his makeshift desk, squinting at a report made in Hitomi’s frustratingly tiny handwriting, but looked up when she came in, without knocking as usual. “I see the mission went well.”

It had taken almost two weeks, but it had.

“Kenichi pissed me off,” Toka said, throwing a scroll at him. He caught it with a knowing frown. “And he mouthed off in front of their clan head about Kotori, which nearly made her think we were rude.”

Tobirama sighed and pinched his nose. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Just for full disclosure, I punched him in the stomach.”

“I figured something like that would happen.”

“Well, if he complains, tell him not to be a little bitch next time he’s under my command.”

She could see the way Tobirama rolled his eyes without actually doing it. He set the scroll on his desk for perusal later.

“I’ll tell him exactly that,” he drawled sarcastically. He’d paraphrase it to sound better, probably, but Toka was sure the main message would still ring clear. “We also have other news from the east.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What clan?”

“The Uzumaki. They haven’t said anything definite, but they did agree to send a group here to see the village for themselves. It should be arriving any day now.”

Toka stretched her arms above her head and popped her shoulders. God, she was sore from sleeping on the ground. “Well, that should be interesting.”

“From what I’ve heard, they’ve sent their firstborn princess to evaluate us,” Tobirama went on as he looked back at his report, glasses sliding down his nose. Toka wished he noticed it happening more. She always wanted to reach out and shove them back in place. “So I’ve told the usuals to be on their best behavior.”

“A princess, huh?” Toka tilted her head back and tried to imagine what an Uzumaki princess might look like. Would she be some prissy girl who didn’t know how to fight and had a bad personality that outweighed her looks? Or maybe she’d have the looks and the attitude. Red was a very pretty color. Strong, feisty, and red-haired…Toka could let herself imagine for a minute.

She looked back down and found Tobirama smirking at her. “Shut up,” she said, before he said anything at all.

“You just looked like you enjoyed your time with the Kurama,” he noted, in as innocent a tone as Senju Tobirama could even use, tapping his pencil against his notebook.

“Yeah, of-fucking-course I did. It’s full of pretty women.”

And no Kenichi. He’d been steaming when they returned, having spent a few nights in the woods with the guards bringing him food, and he’d still been in a sour mood when they got back to the village.

“And I’ll add,” Toka said with a pointed index finger, “that Naori and Kotori were entirely agreeable. I have no idea how they put up with that asshole.”

“I have no idea how _you_ put up with him.”

“You’re the one who sent me on a mission with him in the first place. It’s your turn next time. He actually fucking listens to you,” Toka noted, irritation ringing in her tone. It made her cousin grimace.

“He listens to me even better than Hashirama. Which is probably due to how much Hashirama blindly trusts the Uchiha,” he said, then quickly went on when she gave him a sharp-eyed look, “and while I don’t necessarily trust them, I know his behavior is problematic. I wouldn’t condone it. It’s certainly a problem when he decides my orders are more trustworthy than his leader’s because he thinks I have more of a grudge.”

“If you actually had a grudge,” Toka thought aloud, “I imagine you’d have snapped and at least slapped Izuna by now.”

Tobirama’s cheek twinged. There was a reason as of late he’d been hiding out in his tent to go over reports rather than sit outside. The younger Uchiha just seemed to like haranguing him for no reason, shooting over to bother him as soon as he was in his line of sight. And the worst part was, Tobirama couldn’t even look rude by telling him to fuck off, because Izuna wasn’t being overly rude; he was just _bothering_ him.

Toka fondly remembered the few weeks before when Tobirama had been sitting on a log and Izuna had appeared out of nowhere to cheerily ask him what kind of animal his fur was, then started chattering on about how he’d look good in a fox fur, then when Tobirama said- in that usual barely-refraining-from-scowling-tone- _I’m quite busy at the moment, Uchiha-_ Izuna had oh-so-happily offered to help with his work and refused to leave for two hours. Tobirama had looked like he was dying when Toka passed by again.

“Don’t mention the man,” her cousin mumbled into his hand, rubbing his forehead.

“Mention the devil and may he appear. Speaking of, Tobirama, why are you still in this tent and not your house?”

Tobirama glanced up at her, then his eyes darted to the side. A slow scowl overtook Toka’s face.

“…do _not_ tell me you have another experiment over there,” she threatened.

Tobirama said nothing.

“Senju Tobirama!”


	9. i've met you before (you've met me before)

The thing was, Mito had a plan.

It differed from the typical course her father had expected. That they would arrive in a _normal_ fashion. But Mito thought that arriving with pomp and grandeur, with eyes and attention on them, wouldn’t give her as clear a view of the village as arriving in a more quiet manner would.

Kenjin wasn’t much a fan of the idea, but he was still under her orders. Isamu was generally the most relaxed of the three and had laughed when she had suggested it; Saburo had just told her to be careful and signal them if anything dangerous happened.

Mito tied her hair up into a winding bun mostly covered by a decorative purple veil and changed into a plainer kimono before she approached the village, blending in with a group of civilian merchants. She did it so quietly and subtly that none of them noticed. The first thing she saw was a large gate, even though there was no fence it was connected to, that was clearly an entrance point. Multiple shinobi were posted around it, but they didn’t appear concerned with the approaching merchants. Mito suspected people had been funneling in all day.

She did notice, however, there were Uchiha among them, glancing over the newcomers with their Sharingans. Clearly they had some security there.

She took care to suppress her chakra greatly while going through. They probably expected some people with stronger chakras, but Uzumaki chakra was especially potent.

The village itself was still a bit quaint, but pleasant. Buildings stretched out a long way, longer than she’d expected, and she wondered how they’d built so much so quickly. The paths were lined with flowers that weren’t all in season, and the trees dotting the village blossomed with petals that shouldn’t have been there.

Senju Hashirama. The name set her at unease, for multiple reasons. She suspected it was his hand that had guided the construction of the village. They called his ability the Mokuton- the ability to construct things out of wood and plants. She had heard of it, but never seen it.

Mito wandered around, taking things in, and gave the mountain overlooking the village a curious glance. There were steps carved into it, like people went up there for some purpose. She couldn’t see why. It was just a mountain, and going all the way up there seemed like an inconvenience.

There were still portions of the village yet that were nothing but scaffolding and what looked like wooden frames. Yet other parts looked quite polished, with nicely taken care of paths and merchants who’d made buildings their homes and houses that had plants in the windowsills and welcome mats. She wandered for what felt like at least half an hour.

The plants were pretty, she had to admit. There was a flower in the grass ahead of her that was a particular shade of green she liked. She paused and leaned down, picking it to place in her hair, and let a small smile onto her face.

The air was relaxed. It was a nice village, even if it was unfinished.

Her eyes landed on someone in the road ahead over her. There were food vendors on either side, cooking up food for that day’s lunch rush, no doubt, so smoke rose from each one and formed a conglomeration of scents that assaulted her nose. There were other people milling about, some of them civilians and some of them obvious shinobi probably from the Senju and some other clan. But Mito zeroed in on the man standing at the end, looking at a booth with some reservation in his eyes, looking hesitant to go in.

He immediately pinged a description she recognized. The infamous Uchiha mantle, the overcast countenance, the _hair_. That was one of the two founders standing there.

Curious, she weaved through the hungry people ahead of her and wondered how she would approach him. It would have to be in a way that made sense. She wondered if she should introduce herself.

She probably should have given this some thought earlier.

“Excuse me,” she said with a smile.

The man jolted, then looked at her, clearly surprised she’d spoken to him. It wasn’t hard to guess that many people were probably afraid of this man.

“Yes?”

His tone was polite, but it was distant and vague in a way. Something in it just felt…familiar. Something about him seemed familiar.

Mito had just met him, had barely said two words to him, yet she felt some sort of connection. It was like looking into a mirror of sorts.

“You’re looking quite down,” she went on cheerfully. “Here.”

She reached up and grabbed the flower in her hair, glad she’d taken it now. He looked surprised again, leaning back an inch when she reached for his hair, but he didn’t swat her away or anything of the like as she arranged it in his bangs.

“That’s better. It’s a nice color on you.”

“I…” He clearly floundered for a second, taken aback. “Thank you…?”

She gave him a pondering glance. He looked even more taken aback at the attention.

“Well, you’re quite talkative,” she joked, at a flush appeared on his face at once. “You clearly need to have a little fun!”

Something mischievous took hold of her. The same way she took hold of him by the wrist and turned to run to the stall he’d been staring at, dragging him along and leaving him aghast. She moved the curtain aside and stepped in, waiting for him to recover before sitting down.

“You- you- are you all right in the head?” he blurted out, then his eyes widened as if realizing what he’d said. She simply smiled wider at him. “I-”

“Don’t get out much, is what I guess.”

The flush was back. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, I just-”

“Sit down, my dear,” she said, taking a seat herself and patting the bar. Looking hesitant, he sat down beside her and took the menu the shopkeeper set down without really looking at them. “You can’t blame me. You looked like a lost puppy in the street.”

The red on his face deepened. He was almost the color of her hair, now.

“I assure you I don’t need any minding,” he muttered, looking at the menu instead of her.

“Maybe, but we can agree making friends does no harm. My name is Mito. And yours?”

He paused. Then he glanced up at her, a wariness in his eyes, and she could tell he was watching for her reaction. “Madara.”

“That’s a good name,” she said with a nod of approval, playing dumb. “A strong name.”

He blinked at her, gapingly, like a shored fish. “I suppose so.”

“What will you be ordering? I should base my order off yours and its price, since you should _obviously_ pay for a lady…”

He let out an awkward cough into his fist. “Have anything you like. I doubt it makes a difference.”

Mito grinned. “How nice of you! But it’s a quite unwise offer, I hope you know. I can eat quite a bit. You should sharpen your wits more.”

That seemed to get a more human reaction out of him, as he looked at her, offended. “My wits are quite fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? Because I haven’t seen any so far.”

His eyebrow twitched even as he smiled. “Are you sure you want to insult me so openly? I might take offense.”

“See what I say about wits? You can’t even tell when someone is joking!” Mito laughed, waving her menu like a fan. “I’m sure your wits are many, darling, but you simply can’t let people goad you too easily.”

“Hmph.” He looked back to the menu, and she almost missed the pout on his face. “Presumptuous woman.”

“If I were anything else, you may stand out there and starve to death.”

“I have food at home.”

“How should I know? Maybe you’re a wanderer…”

“I’m not _homeless_.”

“Oh? Do you like your home?” Mito asked, curiosity edging into her voice. She kept a close eye on him as he glanced up, surprised again, and stared at the far wall where a picture hung with something that almost seemed…wistful.

“…I suppose I do.”

“Your home is here, then? In the Village Hidden in the Leaves?”

“Yes, you could say it is,” he said, looking back at the letters and not quite reading them. And that was oh so interesting.

The cook looked vaguely tense when Madara looked up and rattled off his order. The man’s hands were just a bit tense, too, as he took the menu from Madara, and Mito’s sharp eye caught his only reaction, a vague curling of one of his hands closer into something like a fist.

How interesting.

She waved and called for a bottle of light wine, even though it was early in the day, and decided to settle in for a long conversation. Even if Madara tried to wiggle his way out, Mito knew she could weave back around and sew him back in.

And maybe it had been a while since she’d been able to do anything fun without the weight of everything on her shoulders.

Maybe that was part of it, but only maybe.


	10. seeking with an outstretched hand

It was the moment Uchiha Madara laughed Mito knew a tiny little piece of her was gone forever.

It wasn’t a bad thing- but she knew, instantly, a little piece of her heart belonged to this man. It was such a weird sensation- like she was meeting an old friend after a long, many years spent apart. Yet, even after only an hour sitting and talking, she felt like she’d known him for a long while.

It took a few minutes of ribbing to goad him into blowing up at her again, then he’d gone somehow pale and red at the same time, and Mito had told him with a laugh she was just messing with him. The tension in his shoulders- the kind that seemed even he didn’t know was there- had bled away, and he’d huffed and said she was just like his brother. And quite annoying, just like his brother, which she didn’t take as an insult, as he was obviously fond of his brother. She could recognize the affection; she felt it every day for her own siblings.

She corralled him into chatting with her, and taking a few shots of the wine she’d ordered, and finally noted the one true sweet spot the man had when she mentioned she thought the wood jutsu that was building the village was a little funky-looking.

The man laughed, and said a friend of his would be depressed to hear that.

When he laughed, Mito knew this was a friend of hers.

His smile was nice. She didn’t know why he hid it so much.

“So I don’t know what the big deal is, honestly,” she said as she gestured with one hand, another holding a shot glass. Somewhere she’d switched their wine out to sake since it had passed noon. It was only polite, in her opinion. “I think this is a very nice village. There’s so much drama over it.”

He chuckled under his breath. It rumbled in his chest and barely made its way out to the world. “It is quite a large effort. Some may have called it a fool’s idea.”

“Well, did a fool come up with it?”

An odd, glinting grin appeared on his face. “That’s out for debate.”

That made Mito laugh. She felt, oddly, more carefree than she had in a while. She spent so much time concerning herself with her siblings, she rarely got the chance to go out on her own and simply…be. “Oh, dear, you sound like you have a story.”

“I know the man who made this building we’re sitting in. He is a fool in some ways.”

Mito cocked an eyebrow. “What about other ways?” she asked coyly, taking a tiny, teasing sip from her glass.

Madara’s eyes drifted. They softened, just by a tiny bit. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. “Sometimes fools have the strongest wills.”

“A strong will leads others along. Once one goes, the rest follows.”

“Sometimes it feels foolish to want to follow.”

Now it felt as though foolish was a term for something else, a nuance Mito hadn’t derived quite yet. The creation of the village made more sense to her now. Clearly, Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama were friends. Perhaps they’d met when they were younger. In fact, they’d probably been too young to know better.

Mito suspected it had been a friendship stained by the realities of life, and the romantic ideas that followed.

She wondered if Madara thought he’d been too young to know better.

She wondered if Madara thought he should know better now.

Mito felt they were similar, in unknown ways. “What _do_ you do for fun around here?” she simpered, setting her glass down.

He looked at her with a dry expression. “I assure you I’m quite busy. There isn’t much time for ‘fun,’ or what you think of as fun.”

Mito grinned like a cat playing with a string. “And how do you know what I think of as fun?”

He sighed and set his chin into his hand. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m even talking to you.”

“Because we’re _friends_ now, dear.”

He was silent for several moments. She wondered how many friends he had. Finally, his eyes drifted back to her. “Oh? You don’t mind a drab friend?”

“You’re not quite so drab,” she laughed, adjusting the flower in his hair. He darkened, but let her. “I think we should do something fun.”

“Again with the fun. What did you have in mind?”

“Aren’t there any places people hang about in the evening?” Mito asked, gesturing vaguely with her hand again. “Come on now, they’re everywhere. Even the seedy little ones in coast towns.”

Madara’s eyes slowly drifted away from her. “Well…”

“Again, come now. You seem a man that knows everything that goes on in this village.”

Drumming up his pride a little would help get him going. Surely enough, he straightened a bit, and hummed. “Obviously, I do. Well then…I know a few spots.”

Mito grinned, like a shark that had gotten its dessert.

* * *

Mito spent a happy few hours taking half a shot every time the clocktower in the plaza of the village rang. Hopping into bars, she found, was always more fun when one was a little bit tipsy- but not drunk. When it had finally darkened outside, she pulled Madara out of the café they’d been holed up in- after the sushi restaurant she’d insisted on trying- and they went through a back alley with a laugh in their step.

They were nearing where the Uchiha lived, she could tell. Their chakras were all particularly similar. So were the Senju’s. All unique, but she could tell the relation. They popped out onto a road in between two lines of buildings in the heart of that part of town, where lanterns hung above back doors.

“It’s always better to go in through the back,” Madara told her, a more lighthearted look on his face, which she was pleased with. He led her in through the back of a building that was already full inside.

It was a mixture of civilians and shinobi in the bar. The _actual_ bar was nearly full to the brim, but they edged in near the end and Madara’s dull countenance did help a little with that. It nearly made Mito laugh, but she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself.

Thus they spent their evening that way, hopping from bar to bar just for the sake of- hmm, _bar-hopping_ , that was a funny term- taking part in the gambling and games going on within. Madara was quite good at cards, something he seemed to take pride in, and when more alcohol was on his breath, he amusedly told her that he harassed that friend of his and always took things from him in games of cards.

Mito was satisfied when she finally found one people were dancing in. Madara seemed hesitant to take her inside, but finally did after she badgered him for a good thirty seconds, incessantly. She started to laugh at once when she was inside, which was pointedly louder than it had seemed from outside, because of the music being played by a group of Uchiha along the outer wall.

There were cat-themed decorations strewn about the main room. There were others, one of which had a round table she could see Uchiha gambling at, one of which had quite a bit of smoke wafting through the air, but Mito was only interested in the one they currently occupied.

“Come on,” she urged her new friend, a bubble in her voice as she seized his hand. He let out a noise of surprise and stumbled at first, but then fell into step with her, like it was an old habit.

The only people in the room who weren’t dancing were the ones sitting or leaning on the bar. Mito caught some surprised glances as they entered the floor, and felt Madara take a breath, then heard someone let out a holler and he released it. The people around them laughed and picked up the beat, as if it was a challenge.

It was unfamiliar to see so many of the Uchiha in various states of undress. Nobody was naked, by any means, but they’d stripped off their mantles to wear less restricting shirts; she even caught sight of a woman with purple hair at the door smiling at them who wore a skirt that showed off her knees.

Something in Madara’s chakra felt lighter, happier, as they moved and twirled around the room. Mito threw him into a spin to try and throw him off, but he just took it with a laugh, not even tripping. He lifted her into a grand flip over his shoulder that everyone else in the room somehow knew naturally to evade.

Mito was crafty in everything, dancing included. With some complicated footwork, she wound them around so she had taken his hand and was leading him back across the room with a guileless grin. He looked surprised, then an excitement appeared on his face that felt like it just spurred her on. It felt like they were fighting, a little bit, trying to see who could take the other one off-guard, but it was friendly.

She could sense his sensation: that excitement when one found a worthy opponent. Not necessarily on the battlefield- in anything; in wits, in arguing, in dancing, too.

And the Uchiha- she had gathered this was an Uchiha-owned bar, by now, what else could it have been?- seemed much friendlier than the stories seemed to tell, because they warmed up quickly and hooted and cheered them on.

It was like a great weight had fallen off her shoulders. It felt even more so because the same understanding was translated to her through the hands threaded through her own, and the connection she’d felt told her she was right.

“I told you we’d find fun,” she laughed in his ear when they were forced closer in due to more Uchiha filing in to fill the dance floor.

“Don’t get a full head,” he replied, sounding amused as he dipped her. She hooked her legs onto him and let go of him with her hands, rolling into a cartwheel.

“Why, I think I deserve one! I am the one who spurned on our celebration tonight!”

“Celebration of what?” he asked, still sounding amused as she coiled around him like some sort of snake.

Her voice became imperious. “My first friend in Konoha, _obviously_.”

He paused, for a brief moment, giving her the upper hand. “Hmph,” he finally settled on, a quiet, rumbling noise, but one of acceptance.

Mito felt oddly _satisfied_. With a mischievous giggle, she slung an arm around his waist and twirled him right towards the person playing the violin, but he reacted as light on his feet as a feather and came slinking back with vengeance.

They continued their game long into the night, so much so she would be more tired than hungover in the morning, but just for that one night, she didn’t care about anything else.


End file.
